On England's pleasant shores we're landed now
And far away from buzzing Paris France
We show our passports to some grumpy cow
Who acts just like a robot in a trance.
The sun is setting as we drive away
The sky is bathed in purple, orange fire
It's laced with clouds of bright pink burning grey
And balanced on a string of yellow wire.
Our home is but a little distance more
We're tired now but we are nearly there
I'll carry sleeping children through the door
And lay them in their beds with gentle care
Our travelling for this year will soon be done
I drive the car into the setting sun.
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